


Written Words (please wake up)

by peterdarling



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Coma, Flashbacks, M/M, Poetry, Sad Ending, Sad Nico, coma trope, haha what a loser, i would die for the coma trope, it's all just sad, nico thinks he can wake will up with poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 20:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11320725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterdarling/pseuds/peterdarling
Summary: If Nico could just write a good poem about something Will liked, he would wake up. He’d heard that some coma patients can hear even without being entirely conscious, and if Will listened to his poem, it might move him so much he’d just have to wake up.He began to read out loud.AKA my take on the coma trope.





	Written Words (please wake up)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I'm not much a part of this fandom anymore and honestly never really was, but I started this work probably a year ago and found it recently in my docs, and now here it is.   
> I'm a sucker for the coma trope, as I was introduced to fanfiction through bandom, which holds the coma trope at it's core. I've read too many coma fics to count, and I finally wrote my own. :,) what a special day this is  
> Introducing...peterdarling's take on the coma trope.

Nico trudged towards the infirmary, exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. He pushed open the door with a trembling hand, the other clenched around an already-crumpled sheet of notebook paper. 

Will was laying unnaturally still on the same bed as he always was. One of the other Apollo campers was just finishing taking his vitals. When she spotted Nico, she did a double take, clearly attempting (and failing) to not stare at him with pity. 

“How is he?” Nico asked, voice raspy in his dry throat.

The young girl didn’t meet his eyes when she answered. “He’s, um…” she ran her hand through her blonde hair that resembled Will’s so much. “He’s still in a coma.” The words were blunt but her tone was more forgiving.

Nico had to fight back the urge to snap at her. Ever since Will had gotten hurt, the son of Hades had been more irritable than usual (if that was possible). Between his father’s random tasks and waiting by Will’s bed in the infirmary, he didn’t have much time to be patient with people.

“Just...is he okay?” Is he going to wake up? 

The girl finally met his eyes, only to break the contact as quickly as she’d made it. “He’s okay. We don’t know if—when—he’ll wake up.” She cringed at her mistake. Nico did, too.

He looked down at the floor as he pulled a chair by Will’s bed and wondered if he had said his last question out loud. He anxiously smoothed the paper he’d been holding over his lap, waiting for her footsteps to fade. 

 

///past///

 

Will was stretched out on his back on a bunk in the Hades cabin that Nico always had ready for him. He threw a tennis ball into the air with his dominant left hand, nearly touching the ceiling, before catching it in his right and switching the ball into his other hand to repeat the process. He was speaking animatedly to Nico, who had been leaning against the wall next to the door and listening in an attentive way that he reserved just for his boyfriend.

“A good poem just rattles something inside of you.” He paused what he was doing to emphasize what he was saying with a jab at his chest. “It makes you feel something in a way nothing else can do.”

As a son of Apollo, Will had a natural affinity for medicine, music, and all things art, but none as strong as he did for poetry. Though he insisted he wasn’t talented at writing, and didn’t do it often, when he did, a masterpiece was created. Nico had read a few, some that were even about him, and they nearly brought him to tears each time. He didn’t know much about poetry; he just knew that Will was damn good at it.

“It has this power to make you cry or laugh or love or anything just with these symbols that we look at and just know what it means and it’s just,” he needed to pause for a big breath, “SO amazing.”

Nico smiled. Just listening to Will talk so passionately about something so simple made his heart flutter with adoration.

It was the same way he talked about the sunlight, something he wrote many poems about. Will had a way of explaining the way it wrapped around your body, and even if Nico didn’t understand the feeling, after reading Will’s poem he thought it’d been that way all his life. 

If Nico could just write a good poem about something Will liked, he would wake up. He’d heard that some coma patients can hear even without being entirely conscious, and if Will listened to his poem, it might move him so much he’d just have to wake up.

He began to read out loud.

“I simply admire the way,” A shaky breath. “Sunlight streams into my bedroom window, and filters through the translucent curtains, merging with the dying darkness, till all is engulfed in light.”

Nico blinks hard before he stares at Will’s body, still aside from the consistent up and down of his chest, searching for a flutter of eyes or slight movement in his hand.

Will doesn’t wake up today.

Nico smoothes Will’s hair, straightens out his pillow to a surely more comfortable position, and leaves.

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, Nico spends more time writing than he does training. He writes poems about anything and everything until his hand aches and it becomes difficult to unclench it from the pencil. It’s almost like his fingers are becoming fused to the thing. If Will were there, he would've chastised him and warned him of carpal tunnel.

Will. 

The accident had been what, two months ago? Three? Nico looked to his calendar before he remembered it was outdated. It was abandoned on February of two years ago. 

 

///two years ago///

 

Nico looked to his calendar. February 14. The day was circled in red marker, signifying its importance. Today was the day.

He’d spent the entire beginning of the month plotting his Valentine’s Day with Hazel and Piper, and even once Jason. Today, he was going to ask Will Solace out.

They’d been best friends since the end of the war, with some initial reluctance on Nico’s part, but now he wanted more. He wanted Will to know that when he laughed, butterflies fluttered around in his stomach, and that when he smirked, Nico wanted to grab the sides of his face and kiss him like it was going out of style. 

Nico gulped at his recollection of these emotions. Today’s the day, he thought, with growing anxiety. This time, he said it out loud. “Today’s the day.”

He pushed down any nerves as he looked at himself in the dresser mirror. "My name is Nico di Angelo, King of Ghosts. I’m not afraid of something like Valentine’s Day," he began his pep talk as he fixed his unruly black hair as much as he could. It’d gotten a bit better since he had the Aphrodite girls cut it, but it still held the same wild look as before, just a bit shorter. 

He dressed quickly, eager to reach the dining pavilion, and flew out the door with just one boot tied.

Unfortunately, when he sat next to Will Solace, it seemed all the previous confidence left him and he was deflated. 

“Hey, Neeks.” Will said with the usual smile. 

Nico blushed practically up to his hair and mumbled, “Don’t call me that.” He didn't like the nickname, but he had to admit he liked the fact that it was Will calling him by it. 

“Okay then, Death Boy. Should I have cereal or pancakes, Ball O’ Sun? You know what, Corpse Face, maybe I'll just have a grapefruit. Gotta get those vitamins.” 

“Will, now you're just asking for me to kill you.” Nico said. The playful banter was helping re-inflate his ego just a tiny bit. 

“Oh, you'd never hurt me. You like me too much.” This certain statement was accompanied by a wink, and for a moment, Nico was absolutely positive that he knew about Nico’s crush on him, and he was thinking about drowning himself in his orange juice before understanding that it was just Will’s ginormous head talking. 

But he started to think about it. So freaking WHAT if Will knew he liked him? That's what he wanted! He wanted them to do gross couple stuff, like hold hands everywhere and make out in front of the gods and everyone, and it's not like that was going to happen if Will didn't even know that Nico liked him. 

The next thing he said took every ounce of his courage to say.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I do like you too much.” He wasn't even done, and his face flushed red again. “I actually like you. Like, a lot. As in, like like you.” Nico thanked the gods that there were few campers around due to the early morning, and even they were engrossed in their conversations too much to notice the giant embarrassing debacle that is Nico’s life. 

Will was quiet for a few moments. The son of Hades didn't get too down about this. Maybe he was just containing his excitement?

Nope. Will looked to his right at Nico so quickly it sent his blond curls flying into his eyes, ones that were very narrow. 

“No! No no no! Ugh!” He flew his hands to his head, entangling them into the mess called his hair, and Nico was certain that his life was over at this very second. He died of mortification. 

Until Will continued. “I was supposed to ask YOU out today!” He glared at Nico like it was his fault. And he was having none of this blame game. 

“Well it's not my fault you were too slow!” He said, voice getting increasingly louder.

“It's freaking 6:40 in the freaking morning!” Oh, nuh-uh. He was NOT playing the time card when Nico got up just for him. And he told him exactly that. 

“I wouldn't even be up right now if you weren't so crazy that you just HAVE to wake up at 6:30! So it's clearly your fault.” They were drawing a bit of attention now. 

“It's definitely NOT my fault that you chose the corniest day to ask me out!” 

“Will! Are you even HEARING yourself right now? You were going to ask me out too!” Okay, they were definitely drawing attention. 

It took the blond a moment to respond to that one. 

“Oh. I guess you're right...wait. No, you aren't right! I'm right!” Yep, still fiery. 

“No! I'm right!”

“Are not!”

“Am too!” 

At this point, Will just huffed, stood up, took one last vengeful bite of grapefruit, and stomped off, leaving Nico aggressively shoveling fistfuls of granola into his mouth and crossing his arms when he had to pause and chew. 

Percy looked over from the nearby Poseidon table and wondered out loud, “Are they supposed to have a lover’s quarrel so soon?”

 

///present///

 

He ended up back at the infirmary in a chair they began leaving by Will’s cot for when Nico visited.

“Hey, Will,” he whispered. “Do you know what today is?” Nico left a space for the response he imagined Will would give. “That’s right, it’s Valentine’s Day. Remember when I asked you out and we argued?” He held his hands in his lap, though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Will’s skin. Nico was afraid he might find it cold. “I’d give anything to go back to that moment.”

Nico stared at a spot at the ground. Thinking. 

“Anyways,” he broke out of the trance, “that’s what today’s poem is about.” He opened a notebook with all of his acceptable poetry in it and turned to the marked page.

“Some fleeting moments pass by like golden hues, carrying magic that is only felt when all comes to an end.” Nico sighed. “How is it? I think I’ve improved.”

There was no response.

“Okay,” he told Will as he stood from his chair, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

It has been nearly a year since Will Solace fell into a coma that no medical genius nor godly gifted man could reverse. In that year, Nico di Angelo had become increasingly difficult to persuade into social situations without using coercion. He barely came out of his cabin, not even for meals, and the only place he could reliably be found was by the side of the love of his life, currently dormant in a corner of the camp infirmary that was visited less and less by anyone but the son of Hades. 

That’s where he was today.

“I know you’ll wake up today,” he mumbles, “I can feel it.”

With that hopeful belief, Nico reads off his best poem. He’d worked on it for weeks, just trying to find the right words, to convey the right emotions, and he knew if this didn’t wake Will up, nothing would.

If he didn’t wake up today—well, that's not something Nico wants to think about.

“Each wisdom I hold as truth has sprouted from your influence,” he starts. “Each sentence you have spoken, I keep as my religion, and this is my promise to you; just as an artist holds no purpose without a muse,” he searches Will’s face for movement, “I hold no purpose without you,” all he wants is a sign that Will can hear him, “and the bible kept on your tongue. What is a worshiper—Will, please, just—what is a worshiper with no one to worship,” Gods, please wake him up, “And who am I without your prayer?”

Nico grabs Will’s hand. It lays limp. 

“All I want is to see your eyes again, Will. I just want to see your eyes,” Nico pleads. “They’re so blue—I just want to see your eyes again, Will. Please.”

Tears well up in Nico’s eyes whilst Will’s fail to even twitch. 

“Please wake up, please, I’ll—I have more poems.” Nico violently flips through his notebook, landing on a random page and reciting the words. “Gluttony is a sin, one the world has committed, even Death, the most righteous of—No? It’s okay, I have more.” The tears now roll freely down his face. “There’s more, Will.” 

“Here, listen, Will.” Nico clears his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that wouldn’t budge. “Presumption of all ideas is the least trustworthy—that one isn’t good enough.” Will lay unknowing to Nico’s distress. “I promise you, Will, I promise there’s more, I can be better—”

Will Solace didn’t wake up that day, and the next morning, neither did Nico.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. But not really lmao  
> TWO OF THE POEMS ARE NOT MINE!!!!! They are the first two and you can find them on hellopoetry.com  
> Follow me on [tumblr!](link) I mostly post Spider-Man and things related to writing.


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